


Of Gold and Lead

by twistedrunes



Series: George [26]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Gen, Mild Language, Slurs, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 18:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: The tension is Small Heath is palpable and everyone is on edge. Anna included. In the lead up to Tommy's meeting with Gold and Anna's meeting with Changretta things between Anna and Arthur come to a head.





	Of Gold and Lead

You knock soundly on Arthur’s front door, the sound reverberating down the empty street. Bouncing off the dirty glass and filthy masonry. Echoing, it sounds ominous, you can almost feel the people shrink back from their doors and windows. No-one’s out in Small Heath, it’s as if the place itself is holding its breath, waiting. As your knock fades the silence closes in heavily. You raise your hand to knock again.

Linda opens the door, fatigue heavy in the bags under her eyes. You wonder how long it’s been since she slept. Her eyes widen as she realises it’s you, and she attempts, too late, to close the door in your face. You stop the door easily and step inside, closing and locking it behind you. She cowers away from you. “No, please, don’t hurt him,” she begs.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” You assure her. “Which is a good thing, because if I had you’d all be dead now. You can’t open the door without checking who it is.”

Linda takes a deep shuddering breath, she looks up at you with tear-filled eyes but nods in agreement. “I just, I hoped,” she pauses. “He needs his brothers.”

You nod in acknowledgement but don’t allow her to derail you from your task. “Where is he?”

“In the sitting room. Why didn’t Tommy tell him?” She says accusatorily.

“Part of the plan.”

“Oh the plan,” Linda says sarcastically. “The plan that includes Arthur killing Changretta? With that stupid fucking bullet. Is that why you’re here? Sent by Tommy to tell Arthur it’s time. Or is it something else stupid and dangerous?” She spits the words at you, bringing the full might of her anger against you. For a moment you capture a glimpse of the street preacher; righteousness and moral indignation giving her power. “Never does handle the dirty work himself. It used to be John and Arthur and now it seems it’s you. With Arthur not even worthy of a fuckin’ audience.” Linda’s voice gets louder with each statement, her eyes blazing.

You resist the urge to snap back at her and take a breath before telling her calmly. “Tommy didn’t send me. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Then why?” Linda’s venom does not abate.

“I’m here for the bullet.” You say plainly.

Linda steps back, bumping into the hall table, she sinks against it with one hand over her mouth and the other supporting her, all the fight draining from her. She gathers herself quickly and reaches out and squeezes your arm “Thank you.” She hurries, dragging you, along the hall to the sitting room. “I’ll make some tea.” She says opening the door.

The smell of alcohol and sweat nearly knock you back. Arthur sits in the chair by the fire, bottle of whiskey in one hand, cigar in the other. Bruises blooming from his fight with Tommy, blood dried to rust on his shirtfront. His eyes are closed and he’s mumbling something to himself. You take the timber chair from beside the door, setting it in front of him. He doesn’t register your presence until you reach out and touch his knee lightly. His hand, still holding the bottle of whiskey, reaches for the holster no longer on his shoulders. Whiskey pours down his front.

“Fuck” Arthur grunts flatly.

“Arthur,” you touch his knee again.

He opens one eye, it seems to swim for a moment in its socket before fixing on your face. “Not here,” he grunts. “Not in front of Linda, the baby’s asleep upstairs.” 

You sigh “I’m not here to hurt you, Arthur. I understand. You were protecting Tommy, the whole family. You did the right thing.”

“Never wanted to hurt you,” Arthur says, shoulders hunched and voice soft.

It breaks your heart to see Arthur this way. “I know Arthur,” you say softly closing your hand around his.

“Just tryin’ to protect, everyone,” He mumbles, his eye closing.

You scoot forward in the chair taking his shoulders in your hands, shaking him slightly. “Arthur! You need to pull yourself together.”

Arthur’s eyes open’s slightly “What for ‘ey? You an’ Tommy got it all worked out.” He waves his hand broadly towards the window, managing to spill even more whiskey on himself. You take the bottle from his hand and set it beside your chair. Arthur isn’t finished. “Just fuckin’ put a bullet in my head and be done with it, ey? Take me out to some muddy fuckin’ field and do what the fuckin’ Germans couldn’t. Better for everyone.”

“Tommy needs you today, with the Gold’s,”

“He doesn’t need me. You’ll be watching, up in the gables, watching over us all. Like a fuckin’ guardian angel.” He says bitterly. You can’t help it, you laugh. Arthur looks at you incensed. “What?”

“Fuckin’ hell Arthur, no one’s ever called me an angel,”

“True. Nothing but trouble,” Arthur agrees gruffly, but there’s a gentleness to it now.

“Yeah, I am. Got a nose for it apparently.” You tease. Arthur gives a quiet huff of a laugh, but it’s over quickly and he falls quiet again, hunching forward with his elbows on his knees looking intently into the fire. 

You copy his posture, bringing your head close to his. “Tommy needs you, Arthur. I need you.” Arthur huffs and hangs his head, turning his gaze to the floor. “From up in the loft I won’t be able to read what’s happening. I’ll be too far away. You’re like me Arthur, you can sense trouble before it starts.” You pause for a moment, waiting, hoping for a response. Arthur gives you nothing so you push on. “Tommy’s good at the thinking and planning, but you’re the one who can sense things, see when something is out of place. You understand the Gypsy stuff, what the rules are, what things mean.”

Arthur shakes his head slowly, “I’m redundant, no longer needed.”

“Fuck Arthur!” You embrace his neck, hand squeezing the back of his neck. “I need you. I fuckin’ need you to look after them when I’m gone,” you tell him in a hoarse whisper.

Arthur sits up abruptly, jerking out of your grip “Gone? What the fuck do you mean gone?” He demands.

“To London, I’m leaving as soon as the deal is done. I need you with Tommy. Keep an eye on him. Finn and the others too. The Gold’s need to see a united front. They need to see that the family are still together, still strong.”

“You meeting Changretta?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah,”

“I’ll come with you. Fucking finish this once and for all.” Arthur declares.

“No, Arthur, you’re needed here.”

Arthur’s eyes blaze, then narrow and harden. “I’ll put the bullet in fucking Changretta’s skull, right between his fucking eyes. Won’t need the fucking Gold’s then will we?”

“Fuck! Arthur, you won’t get within a hundred yards of him before his men will have killed you. That’s why I’m here, give me the bullet.”

“Give you the bullet?” Arthur stands angrily, looming over you. “What do you know about the fucking bullet ‘ey? It’s tradition. It’s about fucking blood. A Shelby has to do it. I have to do it!”

“He won’t expect it from me.” You try to explain.

“You think he’ll be fooled by you when you’re all moony-eyed over Tommy?”

“You were,” you snap.

Arthur turns away from you angrily, ignoring your comment he continues. “The bullet is my responsibility, fucking Tommy knows that. But he sends you to fucking collect it!” Arthur slams his hand on the side table.

“He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” He demands as he turns on you.

“Tommy wants to give it to Aberama! Fuck!” You shout back. For a long minute, the two of you stand facing each other, both breathing heavily. You lean against the chair you had been sitting in, dropping your head. “He’s scared, Arthur.”

From behind you, Linda speaks quietly. “Please Arthur,”

Arthur shakes his head ignoring his wife and looks at you. “You’re not a Shelby. Even if my brother is putting his dick in you.” Arthur says coldly. “You’re just doing his bidding like the rest of us.”

“I’m not doing this for Tommy,” You say quietly. “None of the times I’ve fought for the Shelby’s have been for him.”

“Fuck off,” Arthur snorts derisively.

“Especially not in the beginning.” You insist. “It’s always been about all of you. You’re the closest thing to a family I’ve ever had, and it was you, John and Finn who made me feel that way. With Tommy, things have always been complicated, and messy, and never fucking easy. But with the three of you, I always felt like I belonged.”

Arthur ignores you, retrieving his bottle from next to the chair.

“You’ve always been there for me Arthur. Fuck you even gave me some of your precious Shelby blood!”

Arthur takes a long swig from the bottle. “Didn’t know you knew about that,”

“Finn told me.”

“That fuckin’ kid,”

“He’s not a kid anymore,” you say automatically. “He told me what you said too,” You push on defiantly. Arthur’s brow furrows as he tries to remember. “He said that after, you said that with that much blood, I was a Shelby.” You pause for a moment. “Telling fortunes in no time.” You remind him.

Arthur stands silently, bottle hanging at his side. His face is sombre, his eyes close.

“And since then I’ve always considered you my family.” You push on boldly, deciding there was no point in backing out now. “So I came for the bullet, to keep you safe, to honour your tradition. Because I can’t tell fortunes Arthur, but I can shoot a gun. I can shoot a gun and it’s a bullet that will end Changretta, whether his name is on it or not.” 

Arthur turns his back, heading for a new bottle of whiskey. “No.” It’s a statement of finality.

Defeated you head for the door. Linda is praying quietly, she reaches out for you as you pass but you shake your head. “Lock the door behind me, ‘eh.” You instruct as you pass by.

In the kitchen of Tommy’s Watery Lane house, you find a moment of inexplicable calm. You’re seated at the table, helping Charlie with his breakfast while Tommy, Polly, Mary, and the lawyer meet in the front room. Charlie, still in his pyjamas, had insisted on sitting in your lap, scrambling up eagerly as soon as the two of you had finished preparing the toast and tea. You reach around him picking up a piece of toast and spreading it with some butter and jam.

“Come on, eat up.” You tell him, putting the slice onto the plate in front of him and bringing his glass of milk within his reach.

“Thank you, Anna.” Charlie says happily. “I like it when you come for breakfast.”

There’s a pleasant ache in your chest with his words. “Me too,” you tell him, pressing your face lightly against his hair, almost a kiss. For a moment you just breathe, taking in the smell of Charlie’s hair and enjoying his warmth in your lap, your eyes close, and just for a second everything else falls away.

“Anna?” Charlie asks wiggling in your lap so he can look up at you.

“Mm?” You hum, barely opening your eyes.

“Are you going to have some breakfast too?” He asks, pointing at the untouched slices of toast in the rack.

Smiling you meet his eye. “Yes, thank you for reminding me, Charlie.” You remove a slice from the rack, spread some butter on it and take a bite.

Charlie’s head drops to the side, eyes wide and full of innocence “Nice?” he asks.

“Lovely.” You agree. “Now you eat yours.” You nod towards his plate.

Muffled voices from the hall draw your attention and moments later the kitchen door opens and Polly walks in. She smiles at you, but her face is pale and drawn.

“How is he?” You ask, as Polly kisses the top of Charlie’s head before her arm wraps around your shoulders. You move in the chair so you can wrap your arm around her waist.

Polly’s hand squeezes your shoulder as she straightens. “He should be home within the week.” She breathes as if she barely dares say the words aloud.

“He’s strong and young, he’ll be up and about before you know it.” You tell her reassuringly.

Polly takes a deep breath letting it out slowly, blinking rapidly and wiping her fingertips under her eyes before looking down on you again. “You be careful; this can’t be like the Russians.” She tells you sternly. “No unnecessary risks, it’s dangerous.” She nods towards Charlie meaningfully. 

“Yes, Pol.” You agree. Polly’s eyes return to yours holding them sternly. “I promise” You add quickly. Polly nods seemingly placated by whatever she saw in your eyes.

“Excuse me, Miss Hunter?” Mary’s quiet voice says from the doorway.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to do some shopping; can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Mrs Gray?” Mary turns her attention to Polly.

“No, thank you.” Pol replies.

Mary nods and moves out of the doorway, replaced by Tommy.

“I’ll be off then,” Polly says, running her hand over Charlie’s hair.

“I’ll see you in a few days.” You tell her.

As she gets to the door, Tommy steps inside. Polly pauses, raising her hand and pointing at you. “Careful.” 

“Yes, Pol.” You agree.

Pol arches her eyebrows and steps into the hall.

“Back in a moment,” Tommy says, before following his Aunt.

You can hear Tommy farewell Polly before the heavy door closes and the key clicks in the lock. He’s back in the kitchen in moments. He kisses the top of Charlie’s head and then yours too. 

“Tea?” You ask him.

“I’ll do it,” Tommy replies setting out two cups and pouring. 

“We made you toast, daddy. It’s not even a little bit burnt.” Charlie says proudly, pointing at the toast rack.

“Excellent,” Tommy says, placing your tea in front of you and taking the chair next to you and helping himself to a piece of toast.

No one speaks while Tommy butters his toast and adds a spoonful of marmalade. He takes a bite and chews it carefully. “Perfect,” He tells Charlie, ruffling his hair with his free hand before settling it on the back of your chair, rubbing his thumb against your shoulder. “You alright?” He asks brow furrowed slightly as he focuses on your face.

You force a smile “Yeah,” Tommy frowns and raises an eyebrow. “I stopped to see Arthur. It wasn’t a good idea.” Tommy kisses his teeth. You lay your hand on his thigh, “He’s hurt,”

“I’ll talk to him,” Tommy says as his hand glides over your shoulder and his fingertips caress the skin of your neck. Your muscles relax a little and your head tilts towards him. Tommy’s thumb rubs along your jaw. “Which train are you getting?” Tommy asks you, before taking another bite of his toast.

“I was thinking the two o’clock, do you think we’ll be finished by then?”

Tommy nods and swallows his mouthful of toast “Should be.”

“Where are you going?” Charlie asks.

“London.” You reply.

“No,” Charlie says clearly and loudly.

“Charlie,” Tommy admonishes his son’s outburst.

“No,” Charlie repeats, louder this time, his face screwing up crossly.

You try a gentler approach “It’s only for a day or two.”

“No!” Charlie yells, his face crumpling as tears threaten. “You can’t go.” Tears spill onto his cheeks as he slaps your arm.

“Charlie!” Tommy snaps.

Charlie ignores him turning around in your lap and pummels his fists against your chest. “Don’t go.” He wails, the tears follow close behind.

You wrap your arms around Charlie and pull him against you. His pounding stops instantly and his arms pull into his chest. Hugging him and rubbing his back, you can feel his heart pounding. You look over his head at Tommy for some kind of answer. He shrugs in confusion. “I have to go, darling. I’ll be back before you know it.” You coo soothingly. He continues to cry.

Tommy shuffles his chair closer and strokes the back of his sons head tenderly. Charlie turns his head just enough to see his father “Tell her she can’t go daddy.” He begs.

“Anna’ll be back soon,” Tommy says reassuringly, brushing Charlie’s hair back off his face.

“As soon as I get back I’ll come and see you.” You echo.

Charlie shakes his head furiously “No, the bad men will get you. Daddy told Aunt Linda that the bad men want to kill the whole family.” His eyes are wide with fear.

Tommy’s eyes close, and his head drops slightly, “Charlie,” Tommy begins with a sigh.

“You DID! I heard you,” Charlie interrupts him. ‘And Aunt Polly told Anna to be careful because it’s dangerous.”

“Fuck,” Tommy breathes, rubbing his hand over his face and then through his hair.

“Well, Charlie,” you take over from Tommy who seems at a loss “I’m not a Shelby, I’m not part of the family. So the bad men aren’t trying to hurt me. I’m going to London so they go away and don’t hurt anyone.”

“Are you sure they won’t hurt you?” Charlie tilts his tear-stained face back, forehead creased with worry. A dark expression crosses Tommy’s face and his jaw flexes as his hand tightens on the back of the chair.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.” You assure Charlie, taking his cheeks in your hands. You kiss his forehead and then his cheeks. “There, that’s better.” You pull him back to your chest and embrace him.

Charlie snuggles into you and Tommy leans over, wrapping you and Charlie in his arms. He kisses your temple tenderly. You allow yourself to lean into him. “Come on, let’s finish breakfast ‘ey,” Tommy instructs quietly. You and Tommy release Charlie enough that he can go back to his toast. Tommy keeps his arm around your shoulders. It remains when Mary returns from her shopping and Tommy asks her to take Charlie to change into his clothes for the day. You hold Charlie tight and kiss his him again promising again to be back as soon as you can.

“Fuck,” Tommy says quietly as Mary closes the door behind her.

You lean into him again, resting your head against his shoulder “Yeah.”

Tommy turns in his chair facing you, his forehead pressing against yours. You press your lips to his. Tommy’s hands snake around your waist pulling you closer, with a slight grunt he pulls you onto his lap. Greedily you wrap your arms around his neck, your palms gliding over the shorn hair on the back of his head. 

“I should go,” you murmur as your lips eventually part. Tommy’s begin to ghost over the skin of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against the sensitive skin. Reluctantly you push against his shoulders. “The boys will start turning up for the guns soon, and I still need to change.” 

Tommy’s hand rises to your face, fingers stroking your jaw as he guides your face to his. This kiss is gentle and slow, both of you breathing the other in deeply, eyes locked. 

Tommy says nothing and kisses you again. Eventually, you pull out of his grasp and stand. Hand in hand he walks you to the door. There Tommy’s hands come to your hips and he pulls you close, lips ghosting against yours. “Be careful,” he insists.

“You too.”

Nestled high up above Charlie’s yard, hidden amongst the hay and grain stores you rub your hands together in an attempt to warm them. The cold gunmetal beginning to burn the skin of your ungloved fingers. From your vantage point, you’d watched Mr Gold, Bonnie and their pair of muscled men, like dogs at their heel, from the moment they arrived. They had strutted around with an arrogance and disrespect which curled your lip in disgust. 

Gold stops by Charlie and Johnny who are preparing the birds for lunch. He compliments Charlie on his yard and asks how much he wants for it. The sharp intake of breath behind you a reminder that Curley was here with you. You take a deep breath, inhaling slowly through your nose as you bring the gun to your shoulder. With Charlie’s refusal the Gold’s and their henchmen move on. Mr Gold makes his offer again loudly as he approaches Tommy and Arthur.

“Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr Gold.” Tommy’s voice is clear across heavy silence of the yard.

“Oh, everything is for sale.” Mr Gold shoots back cockily. “Everything.”

You fix the sight on Gold, watching him for the slightest hint of treachery.

“We’re going to spin a coin for your yard, Charlie,” Tommy says casually.

“What?” Charlie’s incensed cry cracks out across the otherwise silent yard.

“No,” Curley’s softer cry behind you.

Ignoring the urge to comfort Curley you keep still and focused on Gold.

Tommy speaks, quietly and calmly. “If it’s heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing. If it’s tails,” Tommy turns his gaze to Mr Gold, pausing for a moment to ensure he has Gold’s complete attention. “I fuck your daughter, Mr Gold.”

Gold swallows hard, the only sign Tommy’s offer has affected him. Bonnie, however, is less experienced in not showing his hand and the colour quickly drains from his face. Arthur laughs, it’s jarring, hard and hollow. He has cleaned up well, posture menacing and eyes like a hawk on the proceedings before him. The knot in your stomach loosens a little, thankful that Arthur was here, present and focused on the task at hand.

“Esmerelda,” Tommy continues, his voice as cold as the metal in your hand, “she’s the eldest and the prettiest. I’ll have her.”

You feel the words more than hear them. You knew they were coming, yet still ice prickles through your veins as your heart and body freeze. Unable to draw a breath you feel panic threatening to overwhelm you. You swallow hard, trying to quell the bile burning your throat. Memories pluck at the edges of your perception, threatening to overwhelm you. Your father’s voice taking Tommy’s words and echoing them, over and over until they make no sense. Stopping you from thinking, stopping you from focusing on what’s in front of you. A large warm hand settles in the middle of your back, stroking you rhythmically, drawing you back from the edge.

“Hush now, it’s alright. Just words to upset Mr Gold aren’t they? Don’t mean nothing.” Curley’s deep, slow voice is like a blanket, wrapping around you and keeping you together.

Taking a long slow deep breath you allow your eyes to close. Mentally you push the memories aside. Looking over at Curley, you give him a little nod. “I’m right now Curley, thank you.”

Curley nods in return and stands from where he is kneeling next to you, moving so he is behind you again.

You return your attention to the scene in front of you. Arthur and then Tommy speak again, threat heavy in their tone. Gold hesitates in replying to Tommy, balancing the coin, and his daughter on his thumb. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your finger slides off the guard and onto the trigger as silence spreads over the yard.

The long moment draws on and on as Tommy and Gold stare each other down.

“No wager today,” Gold says smoothly, holding up the coin. Relief washes over you but your focus is immediately sharpened by the thinly veiled threat that follows. “I’ll keep this coin to buy a flower for your grave when the time comes.”

Tommy doesn’t flinch, “And before that time, please, don’t again disrespect my friends, or their valued property.” Gold gives a slow blink, but Tommy doesn’t give him time to respond further. “We’ve missed Christmas, let’s have it now.”

It’s the signal you’d agreed with Tommy. It was over.

Setting the gun aside you stand up. “That’s it, Curley, we’re done now.”

Curley ducks his head to look out the small window, you do the same. You watch Arthur guide the Gold’s to a long makeshift table, where Mr Gold accepts a tumbler of amber liquid from Charlie. Gold holds the glass aloft; he’s facing away from you so you can’t hear what he says but you clearly hear the laughter at the end.

“I don’t trust him, George, I don’t trust him at all.”

“Neither do I, Curley.” The pair of you watch the scene below for a few moments more. You place your hand on Curley’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ve both got jobs to do. Let’s leave them to do theirs.”

Once Curley is gone, you pack up the gun and sling it over your shoulder. At the top of the ladder, you look out over the yard a final time. It all looks so deceptively tranquil. Men sitting around talking, drinking and laughing. You notice Arthur isn’t with them. Your eyes sweep the yard, anxiety tightening your chest again. As you look the murmur of the assembled men seems to coalesce into one voice, “I’ll fuck your daughter.” You feel hot tears running down your cheeks but do nothing to stop them. The chant repeats over and over in your head. You give a small sob of relief when the church bells ring out the hour over the yard, drowning out the men’s voices and reminding you, you need to get moving.

You scramble down the ladder. In your haste, you miss a lower rung and land heavily on the rammed earth. Lying there the low hum of the men’s voices join together again “your daughter.” Clambering to your feet you scramble out the back of the barn. You feel yourself beginning to spiral, wondering how often Mr Gold had been so casual about his daughters’ safety. If Tommy had ever considered, or worse suggested, taking someone’s daughter to settle a bet before. You feel woozy and stop, leaning one hand on the barn to try to steady yourself concentrating on your breathing. Despite your best efforts the scene replays in your mind. Tommy’s cold words ringing in your head “I’ll fuck your daughter.” All at once you heave, toast and tea splashing on the ground at your feet. You gag and spit as you try to gather yourself. 

“Fuck! What’s wrong?” Arthur’s voice is hushed but strained.

“Nothing,” You wave him away without looking at him.

“Anna,” Arthur begins. You turn on him eyes blazing. “Fuck, I mean George.” Arthur corrects himself quickly, holding his hands up.

You turn away again with another heave, groaning as you wipe your mouth on your jacket sleeve.

“He didn’t mean it,” Arthur says quietly, his hand gripping your shoulder from behind.

You don’t have the energy to shrug his hand off. “Why aren’t you with him?” You grunt, still looking at the ground.

“I wanted to talk to you before you left,”

“Fuck! It’s not the time.” You groan still not facing him and leaning heavily on the barn.

“Fuck! It never fuckin’ is, is it?”

You wince at his outburst and turn to face him. “No, always seems to be something doesn’t it.” You say softly.

“I was wrong to doubt you.” Arthur says.

“You were right to doubt me.” You tell him firmly, finally looking up at his face. 

“I should have known you wouldn’t betray us. Fuck, you’ve been protecting this family from the moment we first ran into you. John and those fuckin’ birds.” Arthur says, interrupting himself, and smiling for a moment. “Hardly fuckin’ knew us, every reason not to trust us, to just ignore what was happening. But you didn’t and you saved my Linda.”

You shake your head “I would have done it either way. Seems I spend my life dealing with men who hurt women.”

A flash of pain crosses Arthur’s face, “Tommy, he didn’t mean it. She’s promised you see,”

“I know.” You interrupt him, not wanting to let that cloud your mind again. “Arthur I need to go, the train.”

“Yeah, just a minute. I wanted to give you this.” He says pulling a bullet out of his waistcoat pocket. “ Thought you might need it while you’re gone.” He spins it in his fingers idly. “Finn was right. That’s why I lost it last night. The thought you betrayed us was like it had been Finn or John. It broke my heart. So here,” He holds out the bullet, between two fingers, towards you.

Wrapping your hand around his fingers you take the bullet. “Thank you, Arthur. You won’t regret it.”

“I know,” Arthur says.

You nod “You better get back,” you suggest softly.

“In a minute, there’s something else,”

You want to argue but the look on Arthur’s face makes you hold it back.

“You and Tommy,” he begins

You rub your hand over your face, “Fuck, Arthur,”

“Just fuckin’ listen for a minute.” Arthur rakes his fingers through his hair and his eyes closed for a moment when they open they fix on yours, his pain clear. “You said I see things, things that Tommy can’t. I think maybe I can see things you can’t ‘ey?” It softens you, and you nod for him to continue. “You and Tommy, it’s a good thing.”

You sigh, “I don’t even know what we are,”

Arthur holds up his hand to stop you. “Doesn’t matter. The way he looks at you,”

His words sting, all the more painful coming from him. “Yeah, like Grace. I’ve been told.” You reply bitterly. 

“No.” Arthur shakes his head. “Not like Grace. He looked at her like she could save him.”

“I know Arthur! He doesn’t look at me like that, I know!” Suddenly all your insecurities about Tommy, come rushing to the surface. Hot tears sting your eyes and your lip trembles. 

Arthur embraces you with such force it the air is pushed from your lungs. Trapping your arms between you he holds the back of your head in his hand, holding you against him. He keeps you there until you relax into him. He takes your face in his hands and looks you dead in the eye. “No love, when he looks at you he looks like he wants to save himself.”

You’d hoped for a carriage alone, but there were none available, the train busy with people travelling for the holidays. You had chosen a carriage with an older couple, both of whom were sleeping. As the train speeds through the countryside, the rhythm matches that in your head _“I’ll fuck your daughter. I’ll have her.”_ The landscape flies past the window and you aren’t able to focus on anything and the words get louder.

“Would you like a slice of Christmas cake love?” The woman’s voice cut’s through the noise. You start, looking around you to see a woman, holding out a slice on a napkin.

Before you can politely decline the man speaks, his voice is warm and gentle with humour “It’s delicious. Best cook in the three counties my wife.”

The woman blushes, her smile bringing a youthful glow to her features as she leans towards you conspiratorially, sliding the piece of cake onto the table in front of you. “I won first place at the county fair thirty years ago and still he goes on.” She smiles fondly “There were only three competitors!”

“Thank you,” you say accepting the piece, still feeling slightly dazed. You take a small bite from the corner of the slice. It is very good. You smile and nod to the man. “That is delicious,” you agree, taking a larger bite.

“See.” The man says with a satisfied grunt as he takes a large mouthful of his own slice. “What’s your name love?”

You swallow quickly, “Anna, it’s lovely to meet you Mr,” you pause.

“Ogden, Harry and Rose Ogden.” The man replies “Lovely to meet you too.”

“Would you like some cordial, dear?” The woman asks.

“Um,” you mumble around a mouthful of cake.

“Elderberry,” the woman explains “he makes it, it’s the best in the three counties.” She finishes with a chuckle.

You grin “Well then, how could I refuse Mrs Ogden?”

The woman pulls three small, plain tumblers from the basket and uncorks a bottle. Once the first glass reaches halfway the man places his hand over hers. “Hold on Rose, gotta add my secret ingredient.” The woman pushes the glass toward the man. “Right then,” he says pulling a flask from the inside of his jacket “just a splash, brings out the flavour.” He says filling the remainder of the glass. He repeats the process twice before pushing a glass towards you. “Merry Christmas.” He says raising his glass.

“Happy New Year,” You reply bringing your glass to his, the three of you clinking glasses. You take a small mouthful, humming again at the beautiful flavour, you lift your glass towards the man and give him a little wink “Delicious.”

“My, what a beautiful ring.” The woman says as you set your glass on the table. “From your sweetheart?”

Her question catches you off guard, a wave of emotions threatens to crash over you. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, opening them when you hear the sound of liquid being poured.

“No need for cordial this time,” Mr Ogden says filling your glass with straight gin.

“Thank you,” you take a sip of the drink and hold the glass in your hand. You clear your throat “Sorry. It was from someone I cared a lot about, he had this made for me. His Uncle, he’s like family to me, I’m going to see him now, gave it to me after he died.”

“The war?” Mrs Ogden asks, as her husband places his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly.

You pause again unsure what to say. How do you explain you had lost both the men you loved?

“Not him, but someone else to the war,” Mr Ogden says quietly, it’s not a question somehow he just knows.

You nod, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Sorry.” You say looking away embarrassed. 

“No need to apologise, love. The whole thing was a terrible waste, absolutely no reason to any of it.” Mr Ogden tells you, reaching out and squeezing your forearm gently. Mrs Ogden hands you a napkin.

“You lost someone too?” You ask quietly.

Mr Ogden nods, “Our only son. We are Quakers, so we are pacifists, but he wanted to serve, he was training to be a barber so he joined the medical core as an orderly.”

“My George was a stretcher-bearer.”

The three of you fall into silence. All of you allowing it to stretch out for a while, Mr Ogden takes his wife’s hand, his thumb caressing it gently. Finally, Mr Ogden speaks. “Well enough of that for now.”

Mrs Ogden nods, “You heading to London?” She asks brightly.

“Yes,”

“Thought as much,” Mr Ogden says, “not nearly enough Brum in that accent for you to be a native. I’d bet you’re from the East End.”

“Yeah.” You reply before draining your glass.

“So going home then?” Mrs Ogden asks.

You pause for a moment, considering your answer. “No. Birmingham’s home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love hearing what people think. So please don't hesitate to comment or pop over to Tumblr @twistedrunes to have a chat!


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